Headlines
by Darren's Wings
Summary: Rita Skeeter here! Many of you have heard of the recent death of James Potter. I've done a little research and here I am, with a special complementary article about our favourite Gryffindor: Rose Weasley! RoseScorpius oneshot. Please review and thanks!


_Rose's POV. _

* * *

Life? Ha, yeah right. I wish I had a life. Oh, sure, I'm alive, but it doesn't feel that way. The little bit of life that I have is a mess. No, more than a mess. It feels as if I'm dead inside or something.

James died two days ago in a Quidditch accident. Albus isn't speaking to anyone because of it—it's as if he's gone mute. Hugo can't say one word without apologising, Lily is too vocal for the rest of us about her feelings, Dad has shut himself up at the Ministry, Mum's frantically trying to keep herself together, and the newspapers won't leave us alone. No matter what we do, we can't rid ourselves of them.

That's just the beginning.

In the midst of this all, I don't know what to do. I feel like a child who wandered too far from its mother and everything it once knew, a child who is now lost and alone with only his tears to comfort him.

Then my friends, all of them except Anna, betrayed me. They gave all my darkest secrets, my most embarrassing moments, my deepest thoughts to a bold woman with garishly pink nails and an acid green quill.

Anna has helped some, but she's still too hurt to really offer anything but irritants. Mostly, she just tries to make me talk, picking at a wound that still bleeds and hasn't even begun to heal.

"Are you OK?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

She'd say, "It'll make you feel better. I talked, and I know I won't ever get over it, but I've accepted what happened."

"No, it won't. Just go away."

Anna shook her head and shrugged. "Just remember, I'm here for you."

Yeah, right. Just want to dump all your emotions on me, huh? And it's like that every time.

I can't talk about it. I don't want to. I'm on a bare, desolate island. The sky weeps day after day, the waves crash upon the shore without mercy. I'm drowning on a tiny, lonely island of emotionless rock. I've been left to die here.

I can't read. Every time I pick up a book or piece of parchment, my eyes mist over and sting. I drop it and bury my wet face in my hands.

It's all because of that bloody letter!

I was not there when James died. I had been inside studying.

"Come on, Rosie, I have a bad feeling about you not coming. Watch me play; you'll have fun, or I owe you five galleons!"

"James, I'm working on my Charms essay! Can't you see that?" I had snapped at him.

He'd said, grinning, "Oh, no. I can't tell that at all." He had ducked my fist as he skipped away.

Those were the last words he'd ever said to me.

Later that same day, just past halftime for the game, Anna, her cheeks flushed, ran into the Gryffindor Common Room and dropped a note on my desk, tear tracks traced through a thin layer of mud on her face. Her makeup had run together and the effect was that she'd stuck her face in a vat of multicoloured paint. She collapsed next to me in a plush armchair, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking.

Anna is—_was_—James' girlfriend. They'd been dating almost the entire time the two of them had been at Hogwarts. Aunt Ginny used to joke about needing to plan a wedding as soon as James and Anna came of age. Uncle Harry said it was fate that Anna had red hair.

I dropped my quill and quickly turned toward her. "What is it? What's wrong?" I hugged her.

She shook her head and shoved the letter from my desk into my face. With trembling hands, I opened it. It read:

_James is dead. Quidditch accident. Come quickly. You have permission to Apparate. _

I couldn't breathe or think. I just stared and reread the note over and over.

"No," I whispered finally. "No, it can't be."

Anna clasped my hands and looked me straight in the eyes. Then she nodded, her own eyes red and puffy. "It is."

"I..." I swallowed and tried again. "I want to...to find out. See for myself. You'll be alright?"

"I need to be alone." Anna bolted up the stairs to the dormitories, her face in her robes.

"Call me if you need me!" I yelled as I stood. I crumpled the damned note in my hand; the room spun, my knees gave out. I cried, because it really hit me.

James was dead. He was _gone_.

I'd never throw my History of Magic books at him after he loudly remarked crassly about me again. I'd never grudgingly hand over my notes so he could earn a barely passing grade again. I'd never need to glance over my shoulder at breakfast to make sure he didn't dump pumpkin juice in my hair again. Never again.

Crying helped some, but I still needed to know if I would ever try to attain closure. So I left through the Portrait Hole.

Down at the Quidditch pitch, Dad found me and squeezed me tight. Mum came too, and her face was blotchy. Albus sat like a zombie next to James' body. Held back by the teachers, tons of onlookers pressed in for a closer peep. The noise was incredible.

As if in a dream, Dad led me over to James' body. His head lolled, blood poured from his broken neck, and his broomstick lay beside him in smashed splinters. A Healer from St. Mungo's was bending over him and another boy—blond-silver hair, long nose, sharp jaw. He was about my age, younger than James, and above all, he was alive. Unlike James. He bit his lip and tears filled his eyes. The rest of us might feel grief, but no one could compare their emotions with the haunted, begging expression in those shadowed, gray eyes. They were so..._lost_...

My mouth went dry when I saw him and James; they were young, had come out expecting to play a game, and now one of them had _died_. Someone hadn't died playing Quidditch in hundreds of years. No one had wanted this to happen, no one had _dreamed_ it would happen, and now James was dead and Scorpius was barely alive.

* * *

The days go by, and I'm still stranded on my empty island. The stars don't shine in my dark blanket of grief, for the clouds block their cheerful glow.

People laugh, but I do not even remember how to smile. Anna still cries, but she pretends she can be there for me. Maybe I will talk when she can gather her act back together enough to actually go on with her life.

Maybe.

Meanwhile, I'll stay here under the beech tree by the lake. I'm trying to signal my real life so at least maybe I could become a part of myself again.

Oh, damn it. What's the use?

"Stop crying," I tell myself. But I just choke and the flow of tears is greater.

Then there's a voice. "Hey, um...I know how you feel. I...I sorta blame myself."

I look up and gray eyes stare back. "Me too...me too," I say and wipe my eyes repeatedly. I try to act natural, but I don't think it's working.

Scorpius sits down in the grass next to me; he's just now been released from the Hospital Wing, but no matter how much his body has healed, he'll never be whole again on the inside.

"You shouldn't," he begins.

I laugh shakily. It feels foreign and alien but all in all, it feels good. "Neither should you, you hypocrite."

He shrugs. "Yeah." His voice is quiet and trembles, and I glance up to see a tear glistening on its slow way down his cheek. He takes a deep breath and stands up. "I better go," he whispers.

I stood up too and wiped the falling tear from his face.

He gives me a surprised look and I return it with a smile. Uncertainly, he takes my hand and gives it a small squeeze. Then he adds, "Um...yeah, well, bye."

"Bye, Scorpius." Unhurriedly, reluctantly, our hands separate, and I can still feel his touch.

I remember, a long time ago, he made me angry every time I saw him. I knew him for his last name and the pranks he always pulled on me only. When I had a choice between putting us both in detention by telling the truth or just him by lying, I ditched the ethical choice and made him go by himself. Anyone else, and I would have gone. Detention wasn't as bad as I thought it was, anyway.

But I hated him, and I didn't know why. I suppose I must have been jealous of him; he was an only child, he had good grades and didn't have to study for hours and hours on end just to keep them up, he had a great girlfriend, lots of friends, and he was always the top in his year, even over me. I had failed my father's assignment; _Beat him in every subject, and don't get too friendly_. Well, the first part. The second one, frankly, was all too easy to keep.

But now, as we stood under the beech tree in comfortable silence, I began to question all that discord.

Yes, Scorpius had survived and James hadn't. I should hate him for that alone. Yes, he was a Malfoy. I _had_ hated him for just that.

But maybe, as we stand as equals who shared something life-changing, we can go past that and never look back.

"I'll be seeing you around, then?" I asked at last.

He smiled. This time, I didn't want to scream that there wasn't anything left to smile about in the world, never would be.

Because there was.

* * *

I'm connected to my old life now. Ever since I spoke with Scorpius, I can talk, I can smile, I can read. Sometimes, I can laugh.

But I only laugh when Scorpius is around. He was the boat that finally arrived and helped me escape my island. Forever.

I'm home.

* * *

_This is dedicated to a great friend of mine, Godric's Honor, because RosexScorpius is his favourite pairing, and I wanted to show him that, no matter what happens in his life, I'll always be his friend. _

_Thanks, everyone, for reading. Would you be willing to be so kind as to leave a review? Please, tell me what you think of it! _

_I love you all!_

-Wings-


End file.
